The Story of Dust and Pinkie Pie
by Tyr's Hoof
Summary: When Ponyville hosts the first ever Trade Fair, a stranger uses a magical book to trap Pinkie Pie inside of it! Inside the book she must work with Dust, a grouchy librarian from a different time to escape. Can these two overcome there differences and escape, or will this tale end in a cliff hanger?
1. Chapter 1

The Salespony of Odd Things

* * *

The summer heat of Ponyville could have been worse, and yet the many stores and stalls that were selling there finery would have persisted in the endeavor. The smell of bits was a powerful temptress, and the newly organized Trade Fair, organized by Princess Twilight Sparkle no less, showed no signs of abating, even though it was three days over its intended course. This of course made its organizer ecstatic, having helped to boost Ponyvilles economy in only a few days.

Twilight Sparkle was making her usual round through the fair ground in the center of the ville, watching as toy merchants and comic traders make deals with foals and grown collectors alike. Furniture enthusiasts and sculpture aficionados shared secrets of the trade and lore of certain pieces. The entire of the town center was set up in rows of wooden stalls, some 120 venders had traveled to the event, yet, there had been one strange curio vender on the edge of the fair that Twilight had constantly noticed, but had been to busy each day to speak to.

The vender was a colt with a cool blue coat and dark red mane, with piercing forest green eyes. His stall was simply an umbrella and blanket to lay on, under a tree, away from the rest of the fair. He occasionally gave a casual glance at the ponies who passed, most to disturbed by his strange stares and the darkness that surrounded his stall. He seemed shady, but Twilight was on a mission to ensure that everypony enjoyed there time at the fair.

The purple alicorn princess smoothed out her mane, and took a quick, deep, calming breath before she briskly trotted over to the stranger, his dumbfounded expression as he stared at her like he was taking her apart and reading her like a book. She offered a smile in response, still closing the considerable distance from the other stalls to his. He continued to stare, as she finally caught sight of his only ware. A book.

Finally reaching speaking distance, Twilight figured that a calm, friendly approach would suffice.

"Good afternoon, my name is Twilight Sparkle. I was hoping to get your opinion on the fair. Have you found everything to be satisfactory?" Of course, Twilight's definition of friendly was different then most ponies. The colt stared up at her, then slowly shook his head, looking down and staring at his book.

"Oh? Well, what can I do to help rectify it?"He gave her another long stare, then let out a defeated sigh.

"Why is everypony in this town so boring?" His voice was deep and sounded like a cart wheel on gravel. Twilight was shocked and offended. Her mouth was agape with surprise. He lifted an eyebrow as she couldn't manage an answer.

"What? I've never met ponies crazier then the ones here in Ponyville."

"Really? Cause the book hasn't found a single pony that it likes." This gave Twilight a need to pause. Did he really just say that the book didn't like anypony in town?

"The book?" Twilight looked down at the tome, it was a solid brown, leather bound book. The front cover read 'The Story of Dust and' but the title ended there. The book didn't like her?

"Yeah. It thinks that your boring. Normal. A lot of big things have happened to you, but they don't make you interesting. But it hasn't found anypony it wants to belong to."

"...its a book."

"A special book." He quipped back. "A very special book." Before Twilight could try to think of something witty to reply with, a familiar voice nearly screamed in her ear.

"Hi Twilight! Isn't the fair so much fun? Look what I bought! Its one of those Crystal Pony horns that I can't remember the name of. It's so cool!" Pinkie Pie. The loud, exuberant pony that was the epitome of all things party and fun. Her curly pink mane and equally pink coat were one of the most well known sights in Ponyville.

"Pinkie, just a moment. I'm trying to help this fair-goer." But the entire conversation was lost the moment Pinkie had shown up. The colt was more interested in Pinkie, and had moved to hold the book in his hoof. He was quickly shifting from the book to Pinkie. Something lurched in Twilight's stomach at the realization.

"Wait! Whats wrong? Is he not having fun?! I can run home and get my party cannon!" Before Twilight could try to stop Pinkie, the colt beat her to it.

"That won't be necessary. The book likes you, Pink one."

"Really? I've never had a book that liked me before. Is it like a pet? Do I have to feed it? What would it eat, words?" The colt and Twilight were both trying to withhold saying anything in there awe at her.

"Please. Peace for just one moment that I might get a word in. Its a special book. In fact, before you buy it, all I ask that you take a look inside its bindings. I promise that what you find inside will be quite...entertaining.." The colt gave a wry smile, setting off Twilight's more paternal side.

"Pinkie, I don't think its a good idea to trust this colt. He seems a little...sketchy." She didn't even bother to try and whisper, the colt was paying her no attention.

"What? No way. He looks like a regular pony, not a sketch. Your so crazy sometimes, Twilight." Despite the warnings of her friend and the creeper field of the colt, Pinkie flipped the book open to the first page. Immediately, a bright light shot out of the books front page, and in the flash Pinkie was pulled into the light, vortexing around the light. Twilight was taken back, and unable to respond just as her friend was pulled downward, into the book, which slammed shut. Once again she was awe struck, her jaw as far down as it could go, and the mad laughter of the colt ringing in her ears.

The title of the book had also changed, she noted in her panic and confusion.

It now read: 'The Story of Dust and Pinkie Pie.'


	2. Chapter 2

In Which Dust Learns Loss

* * *

An eternity. Not a real eternity, mind you, but the closest thing. This was the amount of time that Dust had spent in his 'home', the book. He could, if his mood suited him, remember a time when the Wendigos had just been driven back, and food was becoming a stable resource once more, when Earth ponies such as himself were highly respected for their crop growing. Not him, of course, he had chosen to be a Librarian. Books were his way, the simplicity of there style, yet the uttermost complexity in the simple act of arranging words.

The irony was not lost to him that a librarian had been trapped in a book, like a sailor trapped on a ship. He had, however, come to terms with his long enslavement to the written words of the book, settling down, building a home, and marrying. The only problem had been finding a good wife, since he was the only pony around. But where there is a will, there is a way. And a blow up doll.

This was the only thing Dust had to look forward to. Waking up, eating, pretending to talk to a doll with a constant surprised look on her face, argue with the doll, berate the doll, cry when the doll calls him 'just like your father'. The monotony had long ago ripped any fun, joy, or excitement from his soul. Now he waited. For what? He didn't know. Anything.

Dust had set the table, the lopsided table nearly set the plate of hash browns and hay sliding to the wood floor. He gave a weak apology to his wife, staring at him with that scrupulous face as he nearly broke a plate. He sat down to join her, trying to give a warm smile to the only companion he had had for so very long. His wooden stool was also made by him, and thus nearly toppled over as he sat in it. He barely managed to keep his balance, looking back up at the annoyed face of his wife.

"If I could fix it, I would. But you know that I know nothing about wood or nails." He rebutted to some unspoken insult. It was going to be a long day he thought, as he brushed a part of his long cloud white mane out of his face. Suddenly he snapped up, looking at the furious face of his wife.

"No. I don't need a manecut." He sourly replied, noting how her sky blue mane was still the perfect length, accenting her wood brown coat. Her listless, lifeless, loveless, friendless teal eyes never blinked as they continued to worm away at his confidence.

"Well, at least my mother is still alive." He turned away from her on his stool, crossing his forelegs and trying to ignore her sobs. But a hard heart was one thing he had never developed, and he quickly turned around, an apology half spoken when the most wonderful tragedy to affect his life in the book occurred.

It started slowly, a high pitched whine that pierced the air. When he first heard it, he didn't believe it was real, scratching at his ears for a moment, then perking them up, hoping to distinguish the noise for what it was. Then the sound made itself very clear, as a high pitched scream. Coming from...the roof? Dust looked up just in time for the roof to explode downward, as a pink blur crashed through it, and onto his wife. Splinters and boards of wood launched in ever direction, Dust had barely had enough time to duck, his poorly made table saving his life.

It was from this position that he watched the pink blur and a wood plank land on his wife. It was from this angle that he watched the blow up doll take the wood plank straight through the heart, like some kind of vampire. A blow up vampire doll. He could feel his heart shatter a little. The pink blur, having landed, was no longer a blur, but a pink mare, her blue eyes circling around in her head, like a cartoon character who had just taken a mallet to the head. She groaned, both of her forelegs shot up to her head and began to clutch at it.

Dust was still semi-floored by the death of his wife, but a deep rooted part of his mind was processing the vital facts of the creature before him. As the pink blur began to roll on the ground a little, still groaning, but she did roll off his wife's deflated, flat body. Dust quickly brushed the dust off of his gray coat, and moved to his wife's side, sitting in the rubble of his brand new skylight, he lifted the airless corpse into his hooves, when the pink pony suddenly made a complete recovery, and was now standing next to him.

"Oooooh. Who's that?" She asked, her curly pink mane bounced with every word she said, as her head moved. Dust turned to face her, his orange eyes met her blue ones and he stared at her with a deep seated, if not new, dislike.

"What?" Was all he could manage, his mind barely able to manage forming any rational response. How could she ask about the death of his beloved Ma- shes a mare. Dust's train of thought came to such a screeching halt that it derailed. The poor little engine of his mind, and all the little brain cells inside its passenger car-circuits, died in a horrible mangled mess of brain train. This pink pony was a real pony, and a mare to boot. If there was divine providence, it was smiling on Dust at that moment in time. He allowed the body of his wife to fall to the ground. "Never mind her, who are you? You are not part of the book. You are, dare I say it, real!" His hoof groped at her the side of her muzzle, sliding around her face in conferment and abject hope.

"Of course I'm real. I'm Pinkie Pie." She didn't seem to mind the face groping, and was even smiling a wide mouthed grin, but Dust worried about pressing his luck, and restrained himself.

"Pinkie Pie. Huh. That's a strange name. What exactly is it that you do? You know, for a living." In his time ponies had names like Dust, or Wagon Puller, Cloud Breaker. Pinkie Pie sounded like a bards name. And there's nothing worse then a spoony bard.

"Hey! My names not strange. Whats your name? Oh wait! Let me guess. Is it...Plasteeq?"

"What? No, that's-"

"Your right, too Prance. Wait, I got it. Its Tiger Eye, Master of the Hoof Of the North martial arts style?" She actually struck a pose, her rather perfect form (in Dusts expert opinion) stood on one of her hind legs, while the others did a ridiculous flurry of fake punches and kicks.

"No! I abhor fighting. My name is-"

"Dust." Pinkie broke her martial arts form, standing on all four legs again, and beaming at him.

"T-that's right." He felt a little weird that she actually guessed it. He began to give her a thousand yard stare, the tiny crush he had developed the instant he had seen her was quickly smothered. She must have been some kind of psychic monster or-

"It was the name on the front cover of that book that shady colt was selling."

"What?"

And thus, in a slow and strange way, two strangers began the even stranger journey, to being friends.


	3. Chapter 3

You Had Me At Guessing My Name

* * *

An awkward silence filled the air as Dust still tried to figure out how Pinkie Pie had guessed his name. He had no idea what to say or do, the pink pony was now wandering around his small home, looking around at his few belongings. He sat on his haunches, occasionally looking at the deflated corpse of his blow up wife, and then back at Pinkie Pie. Surely his wife would have wanted him to be happy with this new mare rather then dwelling on her recent demise. He could only imagine how happy she would have been for him to have found a real mare to be with.

Who was he kidding, she would have called Pinkie Pie a freak or something and found a more obvious flaw then her bubbly personality. Pinkie Pie seemed to be a hamster on coffee and steroids, capable of surviving a fall that would have killed anypony else, and come away from it like it had never happened in only a few seconds. He began to wonder if maybe he had been in the book for so long, he was imagining her being there. Yeah, that made sense. He was so out of touch with reality, for so long, he was imagining a mare just falling from the heavens, right in his moment of need.

He was still thinking about how convenient it all seemed, when he heard the sound of the front door of his cottage opening. The light of the outside world of the book took him by surprise, primarily due to his homes lack of windows, another caveat of home building he had over looked while building it. Either way, in the more darkened setting of his home, the sudden beam of light blinded him for a moment. He stumbled towards the exit, his eyes adjusting still, as he bumped into Pinkie Pie, who was standing just outside the doorway.

"Oh...my...Gosh." Was all she said as he picked himself up off the ground, following her stare. The outside of his cottage was a grand and beautiful view of the cozy island he resided on. Rolling green hills, dotted with the occasional tree and bushes, lead to beaches of white sands in every direction but the direct north. To the north of his cottage was a taller hill with a cliff side, facing towards a much larger continent.

"It's quite a sight, is it not?" Dust tried to sound proud that he had at least chosen a good place to build his home, as dilapidated as it appeared.

"No. Your house is really dark. I almost went blind, Dusty." Pinkie fell onto her haunches, and rubbed her eyes, before blinking again.

Dust let out a long sigh. This mare was going to be the death of him.

"Dusty?" He suddenly realized the ridiculous nick-name she had slapped on him. "My name is Dust. Not Dusty-"

"Okay, Mr. Grouchy-hooves."

"-And if you want to know the way out of this book, I would suggest you refer me to by my proper-"

"Dusty! You know the way out?" In the middle of his sentence, he had been tackled to the ground, as Pinkie yelled, pinning him down. For a second he nearly lost his composure, as Pinkie's face was mere nano-meters from his. Any closer and there noses would be touching. Such a risque think to do in public, but at the moment, he was trying to will her into moving the last millionth of an inch to touch him. Until he remembered that she had just cut him off.

"I do. But I'm not going to show a hooligan the way out. However, if said hooligan were to apologize, I might reconsider."

Pinkie nearly jumped off of him, turning towards the northern part of the island, and furiously pawing at the ground. "Alrighty then! We'll go find this Hooligan, get our apology, and get out of here! Lets go, Dusty."

Before Dust could say anything in response, Pinkie was off in a pink blur...in the wrong direction, heading directly opposite of the main continent north of them.

"Ms. Pie! Wrong way!" Dust called after her, giving chase. It was going to be a long trip...


End file.
